


this is life (and everything's all right)

by pocky_slash



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Anxiety, Baking, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Grief/Mourning, Jewish Holidays, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-03 23:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Edie Lehnsherr came into Charles' life long before he ever heard Erik Lehnsherr's name, and her death left a gaping hole in the lives of everyone in Charles' family. As the first Purim without her approaches, he begins to get creative in his efforts to bring everyone out of their grief. Kitchen creativity, however, is not quite his strength....</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is life (and everything's all right)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ang3lsh1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lsh1/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this story! I tried to combine your baby and baking prompts and ended up with something slightly to the right of them. Still, Happy Secret Mutant and enjoy :D
> 
> Thanks to everyone I've ever met in my life for the beta help. That's how long I've been living with this story, guys. Thanks to like, random guys on the street for their input, and specific people who I'll mention once the anonymity has been lifted. You're all the best ♥
> 
> Title from "Living Life" by Kathy McCarty.

Raven ignores the doorbell and observes the knock sign, good sister that she is. 

"Anya?" Charles calls out, quietly. "Could you get the door for Aunt Raven?"

Anya's up like a shot from where she was sitting at the coffee table, quietly coloring while singing softly to herself. Erik's not a fan of letting her answer the door on her own, even when Charles' telepathy has pre-screened their visitors. It sets a bad example, Erik says. She doesn't understand that it's only allowed this time because you know it's safe, Erik says. We need to teach her caution, Erik says.

Against all odds, Erik has turned out to be a far greater nervy helicopter parent than Charles. Possibly because of his own upbringing, Charles is secure in the fact that just by loving their children, providing them a warm, welcoming home full of encouragement, and being there for them, they'll grow into well-adjusted, capable adults. He doesn't let them do anything dangerous or run off on their own, of course. They're not climbing on the roof with power tools. But he also wasn't the one who nearly had a panic attack the first time Lorna slept all the way through the night and straight on until morning, panicking that she was sick or dead.

"Enjoy the respite," Charles said when Erik called him at the university, frenzied and wondering if he should wake her up to make sure she was okay. "I wish she'd slept that long yesterday."

"But what if something's wrong?" Erik asked. "Anya didn't start sleeping this late until...ever!"

"She is _fine_ ," Charles insisted. "I'm scanning her mind right now, she's fine, and I will _know_ if you wake her, so don't even think about it."

Charles had hoped Erik's parenting anxiety would mellow with the arrival of their second child nearly a year ago. He hadn't counted on circumstance sending him reeling back to the tremendous anxieties he'd felt when they first took Anya home, though, and he's trying to be patient, he is, but it's driving him a little mad. In the past, when Erik began to worry just a little too much, Charles only had to call Edie and ask her to intervene, sit Erik down and talk to him about it, reassure him that he was a good parent. 

Of course, that's what has them here in the first place--Edie's gone, so long before her time with so little time between her diagnosis and her body succumbing to the cancer. Not enough to say goodbye, not for any of them, but Erik especially has been nearly inconsolable for the past four and a half weeks, wandering around as though he doesn't recognize himself any longer.

Erik has always been rude and confident and stubborn and unflinchingly himself. Charles likes to tell people they started arguing six and a half years ago and never stopped, and it's not far from the truth. Charles is used to Erik being a pain in his ass--it's one of the reasons Charles loves him. These days, Erik is quiet and frightened and tired and _sad_. He's kept Charles and the kids suffocatingly close. He's not slept much. He's always distant. And Charles understands, he does, he loved Edie tremendously--she was the first real parent he ever had and he feels cheated that he only got seven years to get to know her, that they crossed paths so late in their lives. He knows that anything he felt for Edie was only a fraction of what Erik felt, that before Charles, Edie was Erik's protector and confidante. He knows that Erik deserves every second of his mourning.

But god, it kills Charles to see him so sad.

"Aunt Raven!" Anya says in a loud whisper when she pulls the door open. "We have to be quiet because the baby's sleeping!"

"Oh really?" Raven whispers back. "I hadn't noticed." Over Anya's head, she raises her eyebrows at Charles. The sign on the door, written in the most menacing handwriting Charles has, perfected over years of being forced to teach the gen-ed tailored "The Science of the World Around You" to recalcitrant art students, says, _NO BELL. Knock quietly if you know what's good for you._

Lorna may be sleeping through the night, but sneeze wrong and she wakes up from her afternoon naps. Charles doesn't understand how the same baby who could sleep through a marching band at 7am will wake at a particularly strong breeze at 1pm.

"Hello, darling," Charles says quietly as Raven shuts the door. She's carrying multiple bags, the bright pink and green and blue canvas ones that she keeps all of her babysitting art supplies in. "How are you?"

"Great," Raven says, stooping to accept a hug from Anya. "How are _you_ , Miss Anya?"

"We're coloring," Anya says. "Did you come over to babysit? Are we gonna do _art_?"

"I think today we're going to bake something in the kitchen while your dad goes out," Raven says.

Anya turns to him, quickly. She's not clingy, not usually, but her desire to know everything happening around her is unparalleled and she's quick to upset if things don't go according to her plan. She's more careful of them, too, since Edie's passing. She interrogates them each every morning before they leave for work on where they're going and when they'll be home, even though telling time is still slightly beyond her.

"I'm not going anywhere," he tells Anya before she can level him under her tiny accusing gaze for any longer. "Aunt Raven is going to help us make hamantaschen like Nana used to make with you."

"Yay!" Anya cheers, and then remembers her napping sister. "Yay!" she says more quietly.

Raven is less enthused.

"No," she says. "You're not allowed in the kitchen. Absolutely not. No. If you want to bake something with your kids that badly, get Erik to teach you."

"It's _for_ Erik," he says, his trump card--Charles isn't the only one who wants Erik to smile again. _He's been so distant,_ he tells Raven away from prying little ears. _It's like he's a million miles away. I just want him to come back to us. I want him to remember we're here for him. I want his feet on the ground._

Raven's eyes narrow. The silence drags on for a moment and then she sighs.

"Fine. Alright, fine," she says. "But I'm documenting the whole thing so that when your kitchen burns down, Erik knows it isn't my fault."

***

Charles knew Edie long before he ever met Erik. Edie was auditing his first semester of "The Ethics of Mutation," his only auditor in an otherwise full course. Technically, she wasn't even supposed to be there, but when she came to his office on the first day of classes with the audit paperwork, she seemed so sincere in her enthusiasm for the course that he signed it anyway, even though the class was full. She was kind and her name sounded very familiar to him--he wondered if maybe she was the mother of a past student. Either way, he couldn't turn away someone who was possibly as interested in the topic as he was. He expected, maybe, that she would sit in the back row and knit and watch the lectures and debates, the way one of the senior auditors in his Intro Mutation course did. Any illusions about _that_ disappeared in the second class, when she raised her hand to challenge him on a point about morality.

He was nervous. It was his first time teaching the course, which he had built from the ground up and petitioned to get added to the schedule, and as a telepath, mutation ethics was a topic that was very personal to him. He managed to answer her question reasonably well, along with the next three or four that she asked before the day was through. Still, finishing felt strangely like a relief, and by the time he cleaned up the classroom and waiting for the halls to clear to best navigate his chair back to his office, he was surprised to see her waiting outside the office for him.

"I hope I didn't embarrass you in class today, Dr. Xavier," she said.

"Not at all," Charles replied. He unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter, wincing as he realized what a sty the interior probably was. He didn't care what undergrads thought of the messy piles on his desk, but something about Edie Lehnsherr seemed very organized and very proper. Something about her already made him want to seem more competent. "I wasn't expecting the questions, but I would never be embarrassed to defend my views."

Edie studied him for a moment as he rolled behind his desk. He wanted very badly to read her mind.

"I'm taking this course for my son," she finally said. "Well, not _for_ him--he's already finished his degree, the first in our family." Even if he couldn't feel the pride rolling off of her, he could see it clear as day in the way she smiled. "But he's a mutant and so negative about the world--I don't blame him, sometimes. He was--" She paused. "Does the name 'Sebastian Shaw' mean anything to you?"

Sebastian Shaw was particularly infamous in mutant circles, but even most New York area baselines of a certain age were familiar with him. In the early nineties, he was considered one of the leading experts on mutant children by the state of New York. He ran mutant education programs all over the state, until a group of parents discovered that his methods mostly involved torturing children in an effort to manifest or increase their powers. The parents' group shut him down and the state revoked his teaching license, but he was still making a decent career as a private "tutor" to parents whose children had particularly difficult manifestations or hard to control powers.

The man belonged in jail. He was a menace. He ruined countless lives and rained trauma down upon countless children. And Charles suddenly remembered where he had heard Edie Lehnsherr's name before.

"You were one of the parents in the lawsuit," he said. "I was a child myself, then, but I've read up on it since. You were one of the parents who discovered what Shaw was doing and had him stopped."

She nodded once, smiling wanly.

"Too late for my own boy, I sometimes think," she said. "I can't blame him for being so angry, so bitter, after what he experienced. He blames the government for putting Shaw into power, for not caring what he did, for not caring about mutant children, even after all these years. But it's not all doom and gloom--mutants and baseline humans can get along, of course, and I would like a way to remind him of that. I've read some of your papers, Doctor, and I think if there's anyone who can help teach me the best way to communicate to my son that there is more to being a mutant than being hated and feared, it's you."

Charles could feel himself blushing. It's true that he was relatively well-known and well-regarded for someone so young, and he knew, modesty be damned, that he was one of the leading minds in a field that sometimes felt like it was still trapped in the sixties, trying to figure out what mutants _were_ rather than exploring all they could _do_. But it was one thing to think that, to hear that, from colleagues and friends, and quite another to hear that he had been carefully selected by this woman as her chosen authority on the subject. It was especially meaningful knowing she was a baseline human who was doing this for her son, who had done so much already for her son. Charles remembered reading up on the Shaw trial for the first time and wondering what it would be like to have parents that invested in his well-being, willing to put that much on the line to get justice for him.

"I'll certainly do my best," he said. "To be quite honest, this is the first time I'm teaching this course and I'm quite nervous. If any of your questions caught me off guard, it's only because of that."

She reached across the desk and patted his hand.

"You're doing fine, Doctor," she said. "Anyway, I'll leave you to your work. I just wanted to apologize in case my comments were out of line. I know some professors prefer their auditors to observe quietly in the back, knitting and not talking."

Charles blushed again.

"Never in my classes," he said truthfully. "Speak your mind, ask questions, debate me on whatever you'd like. I've always held that any discussion is good discussion. It doesn't matter to me who generates it--the students will still learn."

"Thank you," Edie said. She got up to leave, shouldering her handbag, and then paused at the door, turning back to Charles. "You know, I think Erik would like you very much."

She left without explaining further.

Charles started the first class after their meeting rather unnerved--he'd read about Edie in history books. There was a whole section about Sebastian Shaw in the education part of his syllabus, even. It didn't take him long to mostly put Edie's reasoning behind auditing his class entirely out of his mind, though, simply glad enough that she had joined that he didn't care why. She was funny and articulate and shrewd and she called him on his shit--his little hypocrisies, parts of the lessons that were unfairly glossed over, and any mollifying answers he tried to create for the questions that took a darker turn. She didn't always do that in class--she stopped by his office not infrequently to say the things that were kinder to acknowledge without an audience.

He was sad to see the semester end as May approached. Edie had already told him more than once that she was only auditing the one class, that he couldn't convince her to come back to school full time to get her degree. 

"I will be sure to email you," she told him after the last class before the review session for the final. "And I will even make an effort to drop by now and again when I'm in this part of town."

"It won't be the same," Charles said.

"It will be _better_ ," she assured him. "And we will start right now. You are going to come to lunch with me to celebrate the end of the semester. No excuses--I know you have the rest of the evening off."

"I wouldn't dare," Charles told her. He actually had to finish up his slide deck for the review session later in the week, but that could wait. He knew better than to say no to Edie when she was talking about food. Instead, he collected his bag and jacket and followed Edie out into the hall, locking the door to his office behind him.

She led him to a middle eastern restaurant not far from the university and paused outside the door. 

"I have invited my son to join us," she told him. "He doesn't get out nearly as often as I would like."

"I'm sure that will be fine," Charles said, but he was distracted by the tall, angry-looking, devastatingly attractive man in a suit who was walking down the sidewalk towards them. As he got closer, Charles could see it wasn't proper anger--it was more that the man was disgruntled. Frustrated, maybe.

He discovered, perhaps a second later than he should have, that the disgruntled man was Edie's son.

"I really should be at work," the man said as he entered hearing distance. He leaned over, though, and kissed his mother's cheek. Charles picked his name out of Edie's mind-- _Erik_ \--which he allowed because he knew she had mentioned him by name before. Charles wasn't sure what he was expecting when he pictured Edie's son--the Shaw trial was in the early nineties, so Erik was obviously around Charles' age, maybe a little older. Still, Charles' mind had gone straight to the textbook pictures of sad, frightened children and stayed there.

"Nonsense, you can spare a lunch away from your desk," Edie said. "Erik, this is Dr. Charles Xavier. He was the professor of the mutant ethics class I was auditing."

Erik eyed Charles dubiously, his cross expression unchanging. 

"I've heard of you," Erik said, still glaring.

"Delightful," Charles said, smiling and turning up the charm. "I wish I could say the same for you. Your mother, of course, has mentioned you in passing, but if you've heard of me, we must be in similar fields."

"Our fields couldn't get _less_ similar," Erik said. "Your ideas are ridiculous. Your philosophies are laughable. Thank god half your work is in hard science, otherwise I imagine you'd never find work."

Charles was deeply offended and utterly shocked, but mostly he was elated. Most people handled Charles delicately after the accident, acting as if insulting his work or his ideas or his positions on the issues would be the final blow that would destroy his fragile spirit. He's missed arguing with people who weren't his teenage sister.

"You're familiar with my theoretical work!" he said happily in reply, pushing back the urge to refute Erik's accusations. "You _must_ be in the field than. Are you a scientist, an activist, a politician...?"

Erik glared at him.

"I work for an NPO," he said shortly.

" _Erik_ ," Edie said warningly. "Please try to be kind to Dr. Xavier."

"You know you're welcome to call me Charles, Edie, and Erik should feel welcome to do so as well," Charles said. He smiled up at Erik again. He was off his game, Charles could tell, but his irritated mask had yet to slip. "Why don't we go get a table and continue this conversation inside?"

Erik made a derisive noise, but he was first to step forward, holding open the door for both his mother and Charles as well. They were seated quickly and given menus, which Charles allowed them a full minute to peruse before he spoke again.

"Which NPO do you work for?" he asked Erik. "I know people on several and I've given some guest lectures. 

"Advancing Rights for Mutants," Erik muttered.

"Oh, the unfortunately acronymed 'ARM,'" Charles said. "Yes, yes. A little more radical than my donations and tastes tend to run, but you do good work. I've had Emma speak to my classes more than once. Emma Frost?"

"You know Emma?" Erik asked. He looked at Charles over the menu. "She's never mentioned when I've brought your work up." _To lambast your ideas_ , he doesn't say.

"Well, just because we don't agree doesn't mean we don't know how to be civil to one another," Charles said. "I've known Emma for many years and there are things more important than where we stand on certain political issues."

"I quite agree," Edie said. "And, Erik, I know you were raised to be civil with those you disagree with as well, so I expect nothing less during this lunch. Dr. Xavier is my guest and you'll treat him as such."

"Mother," Erik said quietly. He may have been blushing. Charles was tempted to lean in for a closer look, but it was entirely possible Erik would take his head off if he dared.

"It's quite alright," Charles said with his most winning smile. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of truce for the length or lunch, though I've always found a little lively conversation improves my meal."

Erik rolled his eyes, but Charles could feel his interest rising up against his will, zeroing in on Charles. It was a struggle for Charles not to read his thoughts directly, but he wasn't about to brazenly break a dozen legal and moral barriers in front of one of his mutant ethics students. 

It wasn't a truce, exactly, that they came to. The conversation remained civil, but the debate was lively nonetheless. Charles shouldn't have been surprised--he did spend an entire semester debating Edie, after all. He was a little taken aback by how angry Erik seemed, but it was a good look on him. They spent lunch debating every topic that Erik brought up--registration, integration, public schools, social services, classification--and if they weren't on opposite sides, their approaches to reformation were so wildly different that Charles had to laugh.

He did laugh. Frequently. And Erik started out enraged that Charles wasn't taking their discussion seriously and slowly slid to the point where his own smile appeared when they reached each absurd impasse.

Charles liked his smile. It was a little dangerous, but exciting nonetheless.

"I'll miss you, Edie," Charles said at the conclusion of lunch, hugging her tightly as they stood on the sidewalk. "You were a joy to have in classes and a joy to talk to after."

"I have a feeling I have not seen the last of you, Charles," Edie said quietly into his ear. She pulled away and allowed for Erik to step forward. He offered Charles his hand and their eyes locked as they shook. Charles knew he couldn't be the only one feeling the pull.

"Your mother has my number," Charles said. "If you ever feel the need to continue this conversation. Maybe over drinks?"

Erik made a noncommittal sound, but they were still holding onto each other's hands, even though they had long stopped shaking.

"It was good to meet you, Dr. Xavier," Erik said.

"Likewise," Charles said. "And as I said, call me Charles."

Erik finally released his hand and left with his mother towards the subway. Charles went the other way back towards the university to gather his belongings before heading home. 

He'd barely gotten into his office when his cellphone rang with an unfamiliar number.

He couldn't stop his smile as he picked it up.

"How about tonight for that drink?" Erik asked. "If you're not busy, I mean."

"I think that sounds wonderful," Charles said.

***

They argued through their drinks and then argued up the sidewalk and then argued their way into Charles' bed that night. In the morning, Erik yelled at him about education while he made them both eggs before running off to work, stopping to give Charles a searing kiss on the way.

Erik kept coming back. Sometimes he'd stop by Charles' office at the university just to shout at him or call him up to ask his opinion on something inane happening in the mutant community, or invite him to coffee just so they could go at it over an op-ed piece Charles had published, debating aimlessly for an hour or two. They argued constantly, ceaselessly, over every facet of mutant and queer politics, about government, about where they were going for dinner. It was the greatest foreplay Charles had ever experienced. 

The sex was amazing. It was mind blowing. It was by far the best sex he'd had since the injury and possibly better than anyone he'd had before. Erik didn't coddle him and the paralysis didn't put him off. He asked questions, he put his hands and mouth where Charles indicated, and then he explored on his own, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He encouraged Charles to use his telepathy in the bedroom and made frequent use of his own mutation. 

Before long, there were Sunday dinners at Erik and Edie's and half of Erik's things began to take up residence in Charles' apartment. Charles liked that even more--the arguing was fun, but this, the settling into everyday life, was even better. He liked knowing how to make Erik a cup of coffee when he was up all night working, he liked that Erik came to him with his problems, he liked Saturday mornings when they were too lazy to get out of bed and spent hours just talking about what was on their minds.

He liked, too, that Erik embraced his mutation. Years of working with Emma Frost had probably acclimated him to speaking mind-to-mind, and Erik encouraged Charles to communicate however he felt most comfortable.

It was like a dream. For the first time, he was with someone who understood him, whom he was positive he could make a life with. He had a mother figure to whom he could speak about his problems and who offered him wisdom and advice, even when he didn't ask for it. He liked his family--Erik and Edie and Raven when she had time in between classes to see him. But while Charles had idle daydreams about staying that way forever, he'd never really thought about expanding, not yet. He'd made noises, once or twice, about Erik moving in with him--he was living with Edie, and though they spent almost all their nights in Charles' bed, Erik was resistant to making it official. Charles didn't press--even if it wasn't official, Erik was still with him more often than not, and Charles was content with that for the time being.

And then there was Anya.

It was a fairly ordinary Thursday. Erik had spent the night, as usual, and they were making their way to work, only to discover the subway elevator was broken.

"I can fix it," Erik said, moving his hands in front of it and feeling out the mechanics.

"That's illegal," Charles pointed out.

"Yeah, well, so is having a broken elevator on this side of the platform," Erik said. 

"Really, Erik, we're going to be late as it is--" Charles' fault for sharing Erik's very vivid erotic dream that he seamlessly turned into reality once they'd woken up. "--just lift the chair up the stairwell and I'll write them a rude letter about the ADA and my not inconsiderable tax dollars in between classes today."

"It will just take a minute," Erik said, but before he could get started, a baby began to cry.

Charles looked around the platform. There were no carriages. In fact, there were no other people back at this end. They were alone, and yet....

He rolled around the side of the elevator and there, rolled up in a ratty towel, was a crying baby.

"Erik?" he said, and psychically demanded Erik's attention when it wasn't forthcoming. Erik appeared over his shoulder and then froze.

"That's a baby," he said.

"It's crying," Charles said. "Where do you think its mother got off to? Who leaves a baby on the ground, anyway, especially in the subway?"

"Charles," Erik said quietly, "I don't think that cleanliness was a priority."

"What do you mean?" Charles asked, still looking up and down the platform.

"I mean," Erik said, "I don't think the mother is coming back."

Charles was embarrassed by how long it took him to comprehend what Erik was saying.

"Pick it up," he said to Erik after a long moment, punctuated only by the baby's soft cries. "I'm calling 911."

***

The baby, a little girl who was maybe a week old, was a five minute celebrity, with everyone in Manhattan raising a fuss and trying to figure out how to adopt her. She was generally healthy, if slightly malnourished, and had a pleasant disposition once she was warm and fed and her social workers were heaping attention on her. Charles assumed she'd be well cared for and loved by whomever was chosen to keep her--there was quite a list, including several celebrities--until he and Erik showed up at family court to explain the details of her rescue to a judge, Edie in tow. Charles imagined they'd go to brunch afterwards, before Erik went back to work and Charles went back to the university to check in at the lab. He was mostly focused on eggs when Magda Maximoff, Erik's best friend from childhood and a prosecutor in the District Attorney's office, approached them in the hall.

"I don't think we need legal representation to tell the judge where we found the baby, Mags," Erik said as Magda embraced him and kissed his cheek. "What's up? Do you want to get brunch with us when we're done?"

"I'm not here for what's about to happen," Magda said. "I'm here because… I think… knowing Judge MacTaggert--what would you do if the judge asked you if you wanted to adopt the baby?"

Charles blinked. Erik opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"What?" Erik finally said.

"If the judge asks you if you want to adopt the baby, what are you going to say?" Magda repeated.

"Is that even an option?" Charles asked. "I mean, they can't just give her to strange men off the street, right? I'm sure there's some sort of legal… something or other in place."

"You're an affluent, well-liked professor at a major university," Magda said. "You're in a stable, long-term relationship, and when you found the baby on the ground, instead of selling her or keeping her or doing anything awful, you immediately called 911."

"I'm a gay disabled mutant," Charles said weakly.

"You are a brilliant man," Edie said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You are both brilliant and well-established. It is not out of the question."

"And this is New York City," Magda said. "We're used to much weirder shit than a gay telepath in a wheelchair and a loud asshole who can manipulate magnetic fields adopting a baby they found in the subway." She paused. "Actually, when you say it that way, it does sound weird, but my point still stands. We're home to the Naked Cowboy, guys."

"Erik," Charles said, turning and hoping for some sort of back-up.

"We're not ready for a baby," Erik said quickly, nodding at Charles. He looked dazed. "Mom, Magda--we don't even live together. We're not--there's an order these things go in."

"Nonsense," Edie said. "Life happens and we deal with it as we can. It is not always predictable."

"Yes," Erik said, "But this isn't life happening to us--this isn't the only option. There are a hundred people in the city ready to adopt this baby. We're not the last resort."

"Exactly," Charles said. He resisted sighing in relief, even as his muscles slowly untensed. They absolutely were not ready for a baby. Charles was considering asking Erik to move in at the start of the new year _maybe_. Anything else was still far off, no matter how secure Charles was in Erik's affection, no matter how sure he was that he didn't want anyone besides Erik.

"Dr. Xavier? Mr. Lehnsherr?" a clerk called out into the hall. End of discussion. Thank god.

The four of them entered the courtroom, Erik leading the way to the table in front of the judge. One chair was already missing in deference to Charles' wheelchair, which was a pleasant surprise. The judge was younger than Charles expected--probably not much older than he was, pretty and stern and contemplative. She listened to them give their account of finding the baby, her eyes roving over the two of them and Edie and Magda sitting behind them. Charles didn't read her, but he watched the way her eyes lingered over Erik's hand absently cupped around the nape of Charles' neck. She kept glancing down at something on her desk.

When they finished, she frowned and didn't say anything for a moment. His curiosity was killing him and he knew he shouldn't, he absolutely knew he shouldn't look, he was painfully aware that he could rot in jail if anyone ever found out, but he couldn't help himself. Something was weighing heavily on her, something that was whirling her mind and dragging her interest back to the two of them over and over again.

He bit his lip and just skimmed the very surface of her thoughts.

Then he tried very, very hard to keep a straight face and stop his jaw from dropping.

 _You just sent out a little ripple of distress,_ Erik projected, his thumb suddenly stroking just above the nape of Charles' neck. _Are you okay?_

 _I… yes,_ Charles replied. _Erik, you mustn't tell anyone I did this but… the baby has the x-gene. She was tested and she has the x-gene and that's why the judge is so interested in us._

Erik made a small, choked noise that was drowned out by the judge pulling her chair forward across the floor before staring at the two of them a little more intently.

"Are the two of you interested in adopting Baby Doe?" she finally said. 

At that point, Charles was expecting the question. He'd planned out the answer, even. He cleared his throat, trying to shake the last of his shock, to sound even and unconcerned and not like he'd just broken a dozen laws.

"Yes," Erik said before Charles could open his mouth.

"Well, in that case, we'll set up a meeting with her social workers here at the family court for next week," the judge continued blithely as Charles bombarded Erik with a jumble of psychic distress that he couldn't manage to form into a coherent thought. "The two of you are dismissed, but we'll be in contact by the end of the day with some more information on the next steps we need to take here."

She stood up, gathered her papers together, and left the room, a heavy silence left in her wake.

Charles spoke first.

"Are you _crazy_?" he hissed. "We don't even live together! We don't--we're not--"

"I can move in with you," Erik said calmly, evenly. It was almost out of character. It _was_ out of character, as far as these things went. Normally Charles was the one doing impulsive, silly things and Erik was the one shouting until he was hoarse. The role change was disorienting. "We've talked about it before. I'm mostly just with my mother because it gives me an excuse not to have to be anywhere else."

 _An excuse not to have to stay with you,_ is what he meant. He was outright admitting to his commitment issues. It was opposite day. It had to be. Charles' head was spinning.

"Where the hell did this come from?" Magda asked. "You just told me in no uncertain terms that you were absolutely not up for adopting this baby!"

"Things change," Erik said. 

"Not this quickly!" Magda said. "I know you! What the hell is going on, Erik?"

"Nothing," Erik said. "Nothing is going on. I think we should give this a chance."

"You don't get to make that decision!" Charles said, his voice going higher than he'd like. "You're not alone in this!" _What the bloody_ fuck _, Erik?_ he shouted psychically.

Erik looked around the room and stood up, headed back out into the hallway. He didn't acknowledge Charles' mental distress, nor his oral distress. Charles had no choice but to follow him, with Edie following quickly behind them. Magda had her cellphone out and was frantically dialing.

"Erin, it's Magda--completely ignore everything I just texted you," she said, once the phone was pressed against her ear.

Erik marched right out of the courthouse and only once he was sure they were alone did he turn around to face Charles and Edie, Magda a few feet away whispering urgently into her phone and ordering her underlings to various tasks related to the case.

"Come on, Charles," Erik said quietly, barely more than a whisper. He glanced at Edie. "Charles figured out the baby has the x-gene."

"So does something like 47% of the population! Half of them never develop any sort of abilities!" Charles hissed.

"But what if she does?" Erik asked. "You know how hard it is for mutant kids in the system."

He did. Still.

"Erik," he said, "you can't… save every mutant child in the world."

"No," Erik said. "But I can save this one."

Charles didn't know what to say to that. There wasn't anything he could say--it was true. They could save this little girl. All they needed to do was adjust their entire lives, routines, and outlooks, accelerate the course of their relationship, and convince a court system that was generally not in favor of anything involving mutants or homosexuals that this was a good idea.

"I've noticed," Erik said, casually, "that none of your issues with this plan are, 'But I don't love you enough to commit to raising a child with you."

"You know that's not it," Charles said.

"Do I?" Erik asked.

" _Erik_ , don't be _absurd_ ," Charles said. Any thought of brunch went flying out of Charles' head at the look in Erik's eyes. He saw the heat of an oncoming argument, and not just there, but in the set of his shoulders, the thin line of his lips. 

"I don't think I'm being the absurd one here!" Erik snapped. "This is a simple solution!"

"You don't think you're being the absurd one?" Charles said incredulously. "Erik, there's nothing _simple_ about this! With no forethought or discussion, you just told a judge that we were going to adopt a child! Without _consulting me_ you just made a decision about our shared future--without even asking if there was going to be a shared future, you just--"

Charles had stepped over the line. He knew it. He knew the moment the words came out of his mouth. He wanted to throw Erik off of his game and he had said something inexcusable.

"Erik, wait, I didn't mean that!" he said, but Erik was already stomping away, storming down the sidewalk away from Charles. Charles looked up at Edie, helplessly. "I didn't mean that," he repeated.

"I know, darling," she said, stroking his cheek. "I think he knows too. Come now, he is going home--I can tell--and we are going to follow him and discuss this like rational adults."

"I'm skeptical of that," Charles said, as Magda stomped back over to them.

"Where the hell did he go?" she said. "First he pulls that in court, now--he can't just run off until we figure this out!"

She looked to Edie desperately. Charles was distantly glad to see that even Magda, who had known Erik since the cradle, was still looking to Edie for advice on how to understand him. Distantly glad, but also resigned to the fact that if Magda couldn't figure Erik out after all this time, Charles had no chance.

"We are working on it," Edie assured her. "I will call you this afternoon." To Charles, she gestured down the street. "Come now. Let's go find him."

Charles signed, but he dutifully followed Edie down the street and tried to wrap his mind around the idea that he and Erik very well could become parents in the near future.

***

Edie was right about Erik going home. Charles could trace his path down the streets and to the subway, angry and hurt and confused. He wanted to reach out, to soothe Erik's mind, to apologize for his words, but he knew Erik wouldn't welcome the intrusion, and he still wasn't sure where he stood on the subject of their argument. It was a lot to take in with very little time for consideration.

Instead, he hailed them a cab back to Erik and Edie's apartment. Once inside, he picked idly at his thumbnail and wondered what the hell he was going to say to Erik once they arrived.

"Calm down," Edie murmured, closing her hand over his his. "This will be sorted in no time at all."

"You have much more confidence in that than I do, I'm afraid," Charles admitted.

"I know you and I know my son," Edie says. "I know you both have tempers, but I know you love each other deeply. This will not break you. If you cannot believe it yourself, let me believe it for you."

"I suppose I'll have to do that," Charles said. He didn't say anything else for the length of the ride, focusing instead on following Erik without getting too close, wrapping around his thoughts silently without reading more than the surface. 

Despite the direct route of the cab, the wheelchair caused enough of a delay on both ends of their ride that Erik was already pacing the apartment by the time Charles and Edie were exiting in the elevator. Charles paused outside the door as Edie fished for her key.

"Erik is a worrier," she said quietly. "He always has been--at least, ever since after Shaw. I should have known something like this was bound to happen."

"He doesn't seem like a worrier," Charles said. "I mean, he's never coddled me."

"Because you started your relationship immediately by fighting with him," Edie said. "Believe me. I have set him straight about it too many times for him to fret over me, but after Jakob died, he still managed. He's worried about this child. It is the same worry that makes him so good at his job."

When she put it that way, it made a great deal of sense. Erik's main role at ARM was helping other mutants navigate social services and advocating for mutant rights both one-to-one on behalf of families and with those in positions of power for the mutant population as a whole. He could be ruthless and unrelenting. Charles put it off to his stubbornness, but worry for his fellow mutants--that made sense, too.

"Maybe I shouldn't go in," he said quietly. Erik was frustrated and hurt and it was partially Charles' fault. He owed it to Erik to help soothe that pain. He _wanted_ to, because he loved Erik, he did, more than anything. But, inevitably, the conversation was going to make its way back around to the baby, and just the thought of it was enough to roll Charles' stomach.

"Nonsense," Edie said, and pushed open the door before he could argue further. She marched inside, chin up, and Charles had no choice but to follow her. In the back of the apartment, a door slammed.

"Erik Magnus!" Edie shouted. "If you are going to act like a child, you will be treated like a child. Stay in your room and sulk if that's what you want or come out here so we can discuss this like adults."

Charles didn't imagine for a moment that would work, but only a few seconds passed before Erik--guilty, contrite, still angry, still hurt, still reeling--quietly walked into the living room. His mouth was still tight and flat and furious, his eyes still sharp and cool, but he stood just inside the doorway and crossed his arms in response to Edie's command.

"You are both being completely unreasonable. Charles?" She turned her gaze on Charles, and he swallowed hard.

"I didn't mean it, Erik," he said quietly. "You have to know that. I love you. I absolutely--of course I want us to have a future together." He could have stopped there, but Edie's comment about discussing things like adults was still ringing through his mind. That wasn't the whole story. That wasn't even the whole surface of the issue. He took a deep breath and pushed forward. "A baby is a huge commitment--emotionally, financially, practically--and it's not something I've ever thought about before, not seriously. Things are--you're--the accident--" He looked up at Erik helplessly, but his expression was still blank. There wasn't even a hint of welcoming psychic pull. He couldn't cheat. He had to put it all into words.

God, he hated talking about his feelings.

"I don't… trust easily, since the accident," he managed to say. "I don't… you're the first person whom I didn't know before that I've managed to trust since. And it's hard to trust when you--you can't just… decide to change our lives without having a conversation with me. You can't just make a decision that enormous, one that affects me as well, without saying anything to me first. I need to be able to trust you." He swallowed, his throat suddenly thick with the embarrassment of the truth. "You're all I have. I need you."

It was worth it, though. Erik cracked, just a little. He dropped his arms and took a hesitant step forward. 

"I don't trust easily either," he admitted.

"Understatement," Charles said, hoping to lighten the mood. His voice wavered, his words suddenly wet, but Erik smiled a little anyway and took another step forward.

"This is what I do at work all day," Erik said. "I look at what happens to mutants who don't have resources, who don't have a mother who ceaselessly fought for their rights and to get them into the best possible school, who don't know anything about the mutant community or what resources are available, who have every disadvantage and have suffered needlessly their entire lives. I see it every day. The disenfranchised, the elderly, and too many kids. All I could think, after you told me about the x-gene, was 'what if whoever adopts her loses interest when they find out she has it? What if they abandon her? What if they can't handle her so they send her to someone like Shaw?'"

Erik's mind flared up so sharply it broke through Charles' shields with memories of his tutelage under Shaw back when he was the head of New York City's Mutant Education Program, before people like Edie figured out the abuse he was subjecting their children to in the name of strengthening their powers. 

Charles took the mental shout as permission to re-enter Erik's psychic space, soothing the fear and anger, sinking into all the spaces in Erik's mind that he normally occupied. It was like finally settling into bed after a long day--he fit perfectly and comfortably and being back was a relief. For Erik too, Charles thought--Erik closed his eyes and sighed quietly as Charles' mind curled around him.

"Children with baseline parents present with the x-gene all the time, Erik," Charles said softly. "Your parents were baseline and look at you. There's no guarantee that she'll face further abuse."

"There's no guarantee that she won't unless we stop it ourselves," Erik replied.

Charles closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. Were they going to do this? Were they really going to do this?

"Erik," he said helplessly. Erik approached him, almost hesitant, and held out his hand for Charles to take.

"You would not be alone in all of this, you know," Edie said softly. They both turned to look at her. "I will support you in whatever you decide. I can certainly watch a baby during the day when Charles has work. After raising Erik, I doubt any other child could be much of a challenge."

"Hey," Erik said, but he was smiling. Charles squeezed his hand.

"Fate has brought this to your doorstep," Edie continued, ignoring him, looking at Charles.

"I don't believe in fate," Charles told her.

"Then believe in practicality," she said. "Logic, I know, you believe in. In a world where adopting a child is a struggle for homosexual couples and mutants and those who are disabled, here is a baby that has come into your life in her hour of need."

Charles bit his lip. While he wasn't prepared for a child, Edie's words held the truth. He honestly didn't see himself ever leaving Erik--he couldn't bear the thought. And while gay marriage wasn't yet legal in New York, he knew it was just a matter of time, and had assumed the two of them would file for a domestic partnership, at the very least, so Erik could take advantage of Charles' health benefits, which were much better than the ones at his organization. Erik's recalcitrance towards moving in with him was their major stumbling block, and here he was, ready to pack. 

Once all of that was in place, maybe two years down the line, Charles was almost certain his thoughts would eventually turn to children. Adoption--especially under all the circumstances Edie pointed out--could take another few years at the minimum. It would give them time to be sure it was what they wanted, but it also might never materialize.

"I hate it when my students' rhetoric bests me," he said, shaking his head. Erik opened his mouth, frowning, but before he could speak, Charles said, "Yes, yes, okay, let's call Magda and at least talk about this. Just talk!"

But he knew, even as Erik leaned down to kiss him, that he was already done for.

***

It wasn't necessarily _easy_ , but it was easier than Charles imagined. They met with the social workers and the judge at the courthouse later that week, Magda tagging along pro bono as their legal advisor and Edie accompanying them to help settle their nerves. Baby Doe--Anya, Edie had decided they should call her--was there as well, and they took turns holding her during the meeting, agreeing to the timeline and terms. They'd have a month or two to prepare and they'd spend a year fostering her before the official adoption, with all the usual check-ins that come with foster care. They'd have to take a class to get licensed to foster her. They'd need to prove their home was ready for a child.

Charles found himself nodding absently along, agreeing to all of it without really listening, fascinated by the way Anya stared up at him, her tiny, complicated mind at ease and calm and content. She was beautiful. 

"They need you to sign something," Erik said, but Charles barely heard him. "Charles? Hey. Baby. Charles." _Charles._

Charles looked up from Anya and at Erik and Edie and Magda and the social workers and judge. He stuttered an apology and lifted a hand to sign, but they were all smiling at him indulgently. Edie reaches across the table and squeezed his hand. Erik was staring at him like he hung the moon.

 _Hi,_ Charles said, wrapping himself around Erik's awareness as he signed a stack of documents with one hand and cradled baby Anya with the other.

 _Hey,_ Erik said.

 _I think we're having a baby,_ Charles said. He looked up from the paper he was signing and caught Erik's eye, giving him a tentative smile. Erik laughed.

"Yeah," he said out loud. "We're having a baby."

***

Charles took rather naturally to fatherhood, in his opinion. There was a learning curve, of course--he'd changed Raven's diapers and rocked her to sleep, but he had no idea how to heat up a bottle or what a baby's sleep schedule should be. He learned quickly, though, and while Anya's thoughts were still the foreign, formless language of infancy, he could read enough from her moods to keep her happy enough and suss out what she needed. He was delighted to have her, and his initial fears--that the excitement would wear off, that he wouldn't love her the way he should, that he wouldn't know what to do with her once they had her--soon disappeared.

The same couldn't be said for Erik.

Erik _loved_ Anya. He adored her. The dense, uncomplicated affection poured off of him any time he laid eyes on her. He loved her with the ferocity he loved Charles and his mother--differently, of course, but no less deeply.

It was because of that love, Charles thought, that he was so bloody _scared_.

It took him a few weeks to notice, at first--Edie stayed with them full time for almost a month, helping them get acclimated to having a child. And yes, Erik was asking Edie a lot of questions, but Charles was as well. She was the only one of them who had done this before. Erik had no siblings, and while Raven was born when Charles was old enough to lend a hand, the nannies had really done most of the heavy lifting. Charles had no problem asking Edie if he should put Anya to bed with her pacifier or the best time for her to nap, but before long, he noticed that Erik's questions were… borderline obsessive.

"Does that cry sound right to you?" Charles heard him asking Edie one afternoon while Charles was catching up on grading.

"It sounds fine, darling," Edie said. "She wants a bottle, I imagine."

"Are you sure?" Erik asked. There was a hint of desperation in his voice that stopped Charles from calling out that, yes, Anya wanted a bottle. "It sounds… different. What if that's not what it is? What if she wants something else?"

"Darling, it's fine," she said soothingly. "She only wants a bottle. Let's go heat one up and you will see, hm?"

"Yeah," Erik said. "Yeah. Okay. If you're sure."

He felt more than heard the three of them move towards the kitchen, and then Charles turned his focus back to his work. The conversation lingered, though, or rather, the tone of Erik's voice lingered, the color of the fear he felt as he asked Edie for help. He'd been scared since the start, they both were, but as Charles got used to the routine of a child and after they'd passed their first two foster care home visits with flying colors, he had relaxed somewhat.

It seemed Erik hadn't.

Edie returned home after a month, though she still came over when Charles was at work to watch Anya. She was happy to take time off from her volunteer efforts and her part-time work at a local bakery to spend time watching her granddaughter, and with Charles' hours at the university more flexible, it still allowed her plenty of time for her own life. Charles thought the arrangement was ideal--he thought they were finally settling into being parents, being a family.

Then, one afternoon, Edie was waiting for him on the couch, frowning.

"Hello, my love," Charles said to the baby in greeting, sending her a gentle cloud of affection. He turned his smile to Edie as well, though it was more perplexed. "Is something wrong, Edie?"

"You might say that," she said. She looked towards Anya and then back at Charles. "I think you need to talk to Erik about his fears, Charles. He is starting to get out of control."

"What are you talking about?" Charles asked. 

"He calls frequently," Edie said. "He is so _worried_ about the baby, though I tell him time and again that there is _nothing_ to worry about. She is happy and healthy, but he fears constantly that something is wrong. I have tried to talk to him about it, but he ignores me. You, though...." She looked at him beseechingly. "He thinks the world of you."

"He thinks the world of _you_ ," Charles said. "And you know what to do--you've done this all before. I'm just as lost as he is."

"I think that may be what he needs," Edie said. She stood up and picked up the cordless phone from the cradle on the end table. "Someone just as fresh at this as he is." She pressed a few buttons on the phone and then handed it to Charles. The little screen was displaying the call log. It was Edie's number over and over again, which wasn't unusual--not many people called them on the landline and they made even fewer outgoing calls. But the time stamps--there were fifteen, sixteen, seventeen calls, all just hours or minutes apart during the day yesterday, while Charles had been at work and Erik had been working from home.

"You see?" Edie said. "Something is bothering him. Something is making him upset. Please, talk to him."

"I will," Charles promised her. "We'll talk. Erik aside, though, how was Anya today?"

Edie gave her standard report on Anya's day--slightly fussy, generally fine--and Charles wished her well, seeing her off and settling in with Anya, waiting for Erik to get home with dinner.

"We're going to need to have a talk with your Daddy, I think," Charles said to her, but she had no insight to offer on the subject other than a gurgle.

He wasn't sure how to broach the topic, turning it over in his mind as he waited for Erik to get home from work. It was going to be a long day, Charles knew. Erik was advocating for a mutant family that had been unjustly evicted, a single baseline mother and her two mutant daughters. They had appointments with all sorts of social service offices and Erik had warned he might be late. Charles thought it was a boon, then, when Anya started getting sleepy well in advance of her usual bedtime. He fed her an early dinner and gave her a bath and was just soothing her to sleep when he felt Erik approaching their building. He'd pay for this in the morning--Anya was likely to wake early given her early bedtime--but some time alone might be best for them tonight. It would give Charles a chance to figure out how to talk to Erik about his incessant worrying.

He eased Anya into her bassinet and wheeled himself back into the living room just as Erik was opening the front door.

"Hello, love," Charles said. Erik looked exhausted--he was probably ready for bed himself. He leaned over and kissed Charles' cheek, though, as he took off his coat. Maybe it would be best to leave the conversation for another day.

"Where's the baby?" Erik asked, looking around the room and straightening up when he didn't see her.

"Asleep," Charles said. "She was getting tired, so I put her to bed early so you and I could have a chance to talk about something."

"Asleep?" Erik said. "Already? She's normally up for another hour and a half." He looked towards the baby's room with increasing alarm. Charles put a hand on Erik's forearm and tried to calm him.

"She's fine," Charles said. "She probably didn't nap well this afternoon. And, like I said, I encouraged it, because I want us to have a chance to talk."

"Did she have a fever?" Erik asked. "Is she okay? Did she seem herself?"

"She's fine," Charles repeated. "Erik, this isn't about Anya--"

"I need to call my mother," Erik muttered.

"Erik--" He ignored Charles and moved towards the phone. "Erik, you need to stop this!"

Charles moved more quickly, shot around the side table and cut Erik off, grabbing the phone just a split second before Erik could. 

"I need to call my mother," Erik said, tugging the phone with his powers. "Charles! Let go!"

"You _don't_ need to call your mother, Anya is _fine_!" Charles insisted, pulling the phone against his chest. "She was tired, so I put her to sleep! The worst that will happen is she'll wake up at the crack of dawn tomorrow. There is _nothing_ wrong with her. And the answer to every hiccup can't be to call your mother! You called her seventeen times yesterday! I checked the phone logs!"

Erik was… angry. His face was red, though Charles couldn't tell if that was from embarrassment or frustration. His hands were balled into fists. He was shaking, but it was more than just anger at Charles for thwarting him, it went deeper. He wanted to look, to slip inside of Erik's thoughts and figure out what was making him so unhappy, but Erik's mind was a prickly place, layered with a sharp warning to keep out. Charles kept his mind to himself and went the traditional route instead.

"What's really wrong?" he asked, still holding the phone back. "You've been like this--since we brought the baby home, really. What's bothering you?"

"Nothing!" Erik snapped. "There's nothing wrong with being worried about the baby! Between you and mom, you'd think I was crazy for wanting to make sure my child is _safe_."

"There isn't," Charles said carefully. "But don't you think you're taking this a little too far?"

"Well, someone has to!" Erik said. He stalked away from Charles and held up his hand, summoning his cellphone with his powers. It smacked into his palm, flying towards them from the bedroom. The charger was still attached.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charles asked, wheeling after Erik as he marched back towards the baby's room.

"It means you don't care!" Erik said. "It means that instead of being concerned, you're too busy patting yourself on the back about how well you're doing to care about any of the dozens of things that may be wrong!"

Charles' first instinct was to shout. It was not a reaction he was proud of, but Erik knew how to strike where it hurt. A dozen defenses were on the tip of his tongue and twice as many equally cruel jibes he could level at Erik.

Erik didn't mean it, though. Charles knew that. Erik was trying to bait him, trying to turn this into an argument about something else. Erik was trying to change the subject, lead Charles away, and Charles knew him well enough now to cut him off.

He took a few deep breaths. He forced himself to ignore the hurt welling up in his chest.

"We both know that's not true," Charles said, swallowing. Erik paused outside the door to the baby's room, glaring at Charles. "Please, darling--what's really bothering you? What's wrong? I want to help you, you must know that."

"There is nothing bothering me," Erik said levelly. "Nothing aside from the fact that Anya is sick or distressed or _something_ and you're just _ignoring it_."

"I'm not ignoring it," Charles said. "You know that, love. Believe me when I tell you there is nothing wrong with the baby. You need to tell me what's wrong with you."

"What's wrong with me." Erik barked a laugh and shook his head. He rubbed his face with his free hand. "What's wrong with me is that the world is full of things out to get my baby and there is nothing, _nothing_ I can do to protect her."

His shoulders slumped and he leaned back against the wall. He looked suddenly small and scared, free of the anger that was fueling him, no longer flushed and fierce.

Charles rolled towards him and gently took the cellphone from his hand.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked. He stroked the back of Erik's hand and peered up at him. His mind was still a torrent of emotion, reined in tightly, desperately private still. "Talk to me, love. Please talk to me."

Erik closed his eyes. "My mother was… she was an excellent mother. You know that. She loved me so much, and even that couldn't save me from Shaw. All the love in the world couldn't save me. What if that happens to Anya? How can we protect her? How can we keep her safe from everything trying to get her?"

"Erik," Charles said helplessly. He wished there was a simple answer, a simple solution to Erik's fears, but Charles knew there couldn't be, not when Erik lived through his worst nightmares already. "That's what happens when you have a child, Erik," he finally said. "We'll do what we can for her. We'll keep our eyes open. We'll protect her. But we can't raise her in a bubble. We want her to be independent one day--that means trusting her, at least a little, and trusting ourselves to get her there."

"But how do we trust ourselves?" Erik asked. He opened his eyes and squeezed Charles' hand. He looked almost frenzied. "How can we be sure--how can _I_ be sure I'm doing what's right? You and Mom--you're so good at this already, so confident that you know what you're doing. What if I never know? What if...what if Shaw _broke_ me and I'll never--"

"Shut up," Charles said fiercely. "Just--stop talking. You're absurd. You're utterly absurd, Erik." Charles had to swallow yet another wave of revulsion and anger directed at Sebastian Shaw. The man deserved to be rotting in prison, not out there corrupting more children, hurting them the way that Erik still hurt. "There is nothing wrong with you. You're not broken and I have no bloody idea what I'm doing. I'm making it up as I go along, testing to see what works and going from there. Erik--come sit down." He meant to lead Erik to the bedroom or the den, but Erik took him at his word and sat immediately on the floor, his back pressed against the wall, his head tipped back to stare up at Charles. He was still holding Charles' hand.

"You're so strong," Charles murmured. "You've been through so much and you've kept yourself whole and you've kept going. You do fantastic, difficult work for the mutant community. You're smart and you're sensible and you're going to be a great parent, but you need to trust yourself to make the right decisions and stop panicking at everything unexpected." He can see Erik's objection on his lips and cuts him off. "If you can't trust yourself, trust me. You trust me, don't you?"

"I do," Erik allowed after a pause.

"Then trust me when I tell you--we're doing fine," Charles said softly. "It's okay to relax. Anya is going to be fine. Look at it this way--my parents were awful and I turned out more or less sane."

"More or less," Erik said, but he was smiling, even if it was just a little. 

"We can't be worse than them," Charles said. "Make that your new refrain. Next time you want to call your mother, stop for a moment and think about if it's really necessary or if you can't trust me and the baby both to tell you when something's really wrong."

"I'll try," Erik said quietly. "I just love her so much, Charles, and she's so small--there are so many things in the world that can hurt her."

"We'll do what we can," Charles said. "And for the things beyond our control, we'll be there to help her. It's all we can do, darling."

Erik was quiet, but when he did speak, it was with resolve.

"I'll try," he said again.

"And I'll help," Charles assured him. "Now, why don't we have something to eat and something to drink and then go to bed and work out all this lingering energy the old fashioned way?"

Erik rolled his eyes as he got to his feet and leaned over to kiss Charles chastely on the mouth.

"I suppose there are worse ways to spend the evening," he said.

"Come on," Charles said, and led the way back to the kitchen.

***

Things became more manageable from then on. Well, Erik became more manageable. Fatherhood was still full of ups and downs, with new challenges every day. They fell into a rhythm, though, with Edie on hand to soothe the worst of Erik's anxieties and Charles always willing to talk him down when he started to get tense, particularly after long work days involving children.

It was ideal, really--the life that Charles had never realized he always wanted. He fell asleep in Erik's arms every night and woke with the cries of their baby at--okay, admittedly, far too early in the morning, but still. 

It was all going quite splendidly, and then, a little over a year after the adoption became official, while Charles was feeding Anya, Erik wandered in from his shower, reading from his cellphone.

"Looks like there's a chance the vote on gay marriage will be tonight," he said.

"This isn't the first time they've said that," Charles said. "Darling, have some more banana."

"I'm going to assume you're talking to the baby and that's not some strange euphemism," Erik said.

"Very funny," Charles said, and looked up. "Come take over, I'm going to be late for work."

"In a minute," Erik said, still glued to his phone. 

"I promise I'll marry you the moment we're allowed, but please come take over breakfast duty so I can pack my briefcase," Charles said. That pulled a laugh from Erik, who shoved the phone in his pocket and kissed the top of Charles' head.

"Go on," he said. "I'm going to hold you to that, though."

"Wonderful," Charles said. He rolled out of the way and allowed Erik to pull a chair over. "I'll see you this evening. I love you."

"Love you too," Erik said, already trying to get Anya to stop putting banana in her hair and start putting it into her mouth. Charles kissed them both and wheeled out to his study to collect his bags and head off to the university.

He ended up working late, stuck in the lab to help one of his grad students with her thesis research. By the time he came home, long after Anya's bedtime, Erik was sitting on the couch, watching the television raptly. Oddly enough, Edie was sitting there with him.

"I'm so, so sorry, my love," Charles said. He'd left a message for Erik and texted him a handful of times to update his progress, but he'd gotten so wrapped up in helping sort out the lab that he'd barely noticed the time. "I was miles away. I didn't mean to be so long, I really didn't, but--"

Erik hadn't looked up.

"Erik? Darling?"

"You might need to make good on that promise sooner rather than later," Erik said, and Charles finally rolled over to get a look at the television.

"Oh my," he said. 

"It is far past time that we had a wedding," Edie said, delighted, as the New York Senate voted on the Marriage Equality Act. 

"I didn't even propose properly," Charles murmured.

"Doesn't matter," Erik said, and then he was up from the sofa, leaning over to pull Charles into a kiss.

 _I was thinking,_ Erik said as Charles blinked tears from his eyes. _Maybe it's about time Anya was a big sister._

 _One thing at a time,_ Charles said, and kissed Erik again.

***

Edie had been right in her prediction that adopting without circumstance on their side would be a tad more difficult. The marriage helped, though, as did the fact that they were already successfully raising another child. It took almost two years, but Lorna came into their life before long, moving right into a bedroom decorated with white fluffy clouds and smiling suns and moons, located right next to Anya's in their new house in the suburbs. 

With Edie right down the hall and Charles' classes scheduled on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Erik's anxieties receded to the point that he rolled his eyes when Charles cheerfully mocked him. Even he had to admit they were doing well by their girls, as well as they could.

And then, just months after they brought Lorna home, came Edie's bad news.

"I do not need a chaperone," Edie said the morning of her doctor's appointment. "It is nothing more than stomach pain. I am positive it is related to my heartburn. Nothing to panic over."

Erik still fretted as she got ready, the way he fretted over all of them when they had doctor's appointments.

"I can go into work late," Erik assured her.

"You can, but there is no need," she said.

"Listen to your mother, Erik," Charles said. He was attempting to soothe Lorna's hungry cries and make she and Anya breakfast simultaneously. "Come help me with this and then go to work before you're late."

Erik sighed but complied, fixing breakfast and kissing all four of them before he left, promising to pick up rock salt on his way home.

"If you want someone who's not going to fret to death, I can call Raven to watch the girls and go with you," Charles said once Erik was out of the house. "She's just at the studio working on her portfolio--she doesn't have class today."

Edie smiled and squeezed his hand.

"You're a sweet boy, Charles," she said. "I will be fine. I'll call if I need anything."

"Always," Charles assured her, and let her kiss him on his cheek before she got to her feet, wincing at the abdominal pain that had cropped up the night before. Charles was mildly concerned; Edie was getting older and he'd hate to see her sick. He wasn't overly concerned, though. He and the girls waved to her as she left and he put it out of his mind and they went about their day.

About two hours later, his phone rang. The number was unfamiliar, and he almost ignored it, but something niggled at him to pick it up.

"Hello?" he asked, rolling out of the room where Anya was watching cartoons.

"Charles," Edie said quietly, "would it be possible for you to call your sister after all?"

Her voice was so low and distant that Charles didn't hesitate.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes," Charles said.

He didn't bother with Raven, who was all the way in the city, but instead rang up the mother of one of Anya's friends. It was quick work to deposit the girls at her house and then flagrantly break several speed limits to arrive at the doctor's not a moment after the promised fifteen minutes. He was out of breath when he finally wheeled his way into the waiting room, which was just as well. One look at Edie's face would have stolen the breath out of his lungs anyway.

"Is this your son?" the nurse asked kindly, gesturing towards Charles.

"Son-in-law," Charles said. "Edie--"

"Why don't you come back with us and we'll talk in private with the doctor?" the nurse said.

Charles didn't like the sound of that.

He and Edie sat in the cramped doctor's office side by side as the doctor said the sort of words that tied Charles' stomach in knots. _Possibility of pancreatic cancer_ and _more tests_ and _advanced stages_. The doctor didn't look wholly optimistic, and Charles couldn't find his voice when the man had finally said his piece.

"But you're not sure yet?" Charles managed to stutter after a false start.

"Not entirely," the doctor said. He glanced at Edie. "But...well, we'll rush the test. And if it's positive, you should be ready to start treatment immediately."

 _Treatment_. As if there was any hope when it came to pancreatic cancer.

The doctor left them in the office, allowing them a few minutes' privacy.

"Edie," Charles started to say, but he had no idea how to finish the sentence. _Don't let it be true._ _You can't leave us._ _What will we do without you?_ He didn't think any of that would be useful at the moment. He closed his mouth.

She looked so small. She was small, Charles realized. Erik towered over her, and Charles knew that if he could stand, he would be taller than her as well. She had always had such a large presence, though, such an all-encompassing personality. He'd never thought of her as small before. His chest ached thinking about it.

"We are not telling Erik until we have an official diagnosis," Edie said firmly. "Take me to the hospital for the scan and other tests, but we will not mention it to Erik until we know. You know what it will do to him."

Ruin him. It would ruin him.

"I don't know that I can promise that," Charles said.

"It is my life, my health, and you will do as I say," Edie said. She squeezed his wrist and looked at him firmly and Charles already knew he was lost. Erik was going to kill him for this, but she was right. It was her choice.

"Okay," Charles said. "Okay. Let's get the forms and have the doctor schedule the CT scan."

"Thank you, Charles," she said, and leaned over and hugged him tightly. Charles hugged her back. It was unfathomable that their remaining hugs might be imminently finite. He pressed his face into her shoulder and tried not to think about how resigned the doctor had looked.

Dinner that night was a quiet affair. The girls kicked up their usual ruckus, but Charles was at a loss for conversational topics, and once Erik had finished outlining the frustrations of his day, their discussion trailed off.

"Charles?" he asked. "Mom? Is something wrong?"

"Tired," Edie said. "It's been a long day."

Erik stared at Edie a moment, but she was unflinching as she spooned additional carrots onto her plate. The same couldn't be said for Charles, who felt his shoulders slumping under Erik's sharp gaze.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," Charles said, which wasn't precisely a lie. Some of that truth must have shown through, because Erik curled his hand across the nape of Charles' neck and didn't say anything else until hours later, when the rest of the house was already in bed and Charles was drying off from his shower and slipping into his pajamas.

"What's bothering you?" Erik asked. "I know it's something. Don't lie to me."

Charles couldn't look at Erik as he transferred to the bed. It was the worst betrayal, the worst he could imagine, but he owed Edie that much, and she was right--it was her business. It was her decision. It was just one more day. 

"I can't talk about it, not yet," Charles said.

It was more than Erik had been expecting, obviously. He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning over Charles and peering down at him.

"You look...devastated," he said quietly.

"I am," Charles said, his throat slick. 

Erik crawled carefully into bed and wrapped his arms around Charles, holding him securely as he sniffled against Erik's shoulder. He felt so stupid, so selfish, but he wasn't about to push away the comfort. If things went badly tomorrow, he was going to have to be the strong one, probably for the foreseeable future. He was going to take what comfort he could get for now, if only to have something to hold onto in the days to come.

The next day, Erik went off to work with frequent glances over his shoulder, frowning at Edie and Charles both. Charles pretended to get his briefcase together, but as soon as Erik was gone, he threw his things back on the sofa. He and Edie waited for Raven's arrival in silence, and he thought they both hugged the girls particularly hard as they left for the hospital.

Robbed of the ability to pace, Charles tore his cardboard coffee cup to shreds as he waited for news. He resisted the urge to slip into the minds of anyone in the room--Edie, the technician, the nurse, anyone who might have more information for him.

He got another cup of coffee. He rolled himself listlessly back and forth.

When Edie came out, he knew before she even spoke.

"I'll call him," she said. "Come in. Come sit in the doctor's office with me."

Charles followed, numb, as Edie took out her cellphone. The pallor of yesterday was gone. She looked determined and focused, ready to fight.

She would. Even in the face of this death sentence, she would.

"Hello, my darling," she said into the phone. "I need to ask a favor. I need to ask that you leave work. Charles and the girls are fine, but I need you to come meet me at the hospital."

From miles away, Charles could feel Erik's reaction., even as Edie continued to speak to him on the phone.

 _I knew_ , Erik said, invading his psychic space, desperate and heartbroken. _I knew last night, I just_ knew _. Charles, tell me, what is it, please tell me--_

 _Come here,_ Charles said. _Quickly. She needs to tell you herself._

Charles tried to focus on the Oncologist as she discussed treatment plans and Edie's outlook, but his focus stayed on Erik, on Erik's journey through town and to the hospital, on his building anxiety and despair, on the spike of dismay that went through him as Charles directed, _Fifth floor, room 5307._

He knew the sign outside the elevator clearly labelled the fifth floor as "Oncology."

"Erik's in the elevator," he said quietly to Edie and the doctor, and Edie nodded.

"How long do you think, Doctor?" Edie asked. "Honestly."

"Honestly?" the oncologist said. She frowned. "With treatment, at this stage...we'll have to take a biopsy to be sure, but...well, four to six weeks."

 _Weeks._ Four to six _weeks_. Charles felt dizzy.

He didn't have time to dwell, though, because that was when Erik pulled open the door without knocking.

"Mama," he said, breathless, his eyes immediately locking on Edie.

"Oh, my darling boy," she said. She got to her feet. "Come here. Come here."

Erik was across the room in five steps, already hugging Edie tightly to his chest, bending over to bury his face in her neck.

"Sssh," she murmured. "It will be okay."

Charles could only watch silently. Weeks. A matter of weeks. It didn't seem real. And how the hell was he going to tell the girls?

Even more urgently, how was he going to hold Erik up when his own heart felt like it was breaking?

***

Erik proved himself to be surprisingly resilient while Edie was sick. He took a leave of absence from work and drove her to appointments and treatments. He helped her settle her affairs. He tried to smile for her, though both Edie and Charles alike could see the smile fraying around the edges.

He powered through the days with single-minded focus, but once they fell into bed at night, he began to unravel.

"I don't know what I'm going to do," he said with frequency. "Charles, I don't know what I'm going to do."

"Live," Charles said. "You're going to live. You know she would smack you for talking like this. We're going to live our lives, Erik."

"How?" Erik asked. 

Charles didn't have an answer.

Surprising no one but her doctors, Edie pushed four weeks into six and then eight and then ten. She remained upbeat and positive. She insisted on reading to and kissing her granddaughters each night, and she left very exact instructions for all of them after her passing.

"I know we sat _shiva_ for your father, and the ladies at the synagogue will want you to sit _shiva_ for me, but I know you, Erik," she said. "You mope. You malinger. I want you to remember me as I was, not to mourn endlessly. Don't lock yourself in the house. I do not care what anyone else says, you need to live your life."

"I will," Erik lied.

Edie turned her level look on Charles.

"I'll make sure he does," Charles promised.

"You take care of my granddaughters," Edie said. "You take care of Charles, and you let him take care of you. Listen to each other. Love each other and your children. Keep doing all of the good things you do in the world. Nothing ends with this."

"Everything ends," Erik said, his stoic facade wavering. "Everything-- _Mama_ \--"

"Nothing," Edie said fiercely. She gestured for Erik to approach her and he slumped into the chair next to her bed, resting his head on the mattress. She pet his hair. "I was going to go sooner or later, darling. We all do. I wish, of course, it had been later. I wish I could have seen my babies grow up. I wish I could have seen you and Charles through the years to come. But I have seen enough--you married to a good man who loves you, Anya and Lorna coming into your home...I am glad I could see those things and they are enough. You are a strong man, Erik. You and Charles both are strong, and you're raising strong girls. You don't need me. Now promise me that you're not going to waste away after this. Promise."

"I promise," Erik choked out.

"Good," she said. "Good boy."

They left that night around ten, Erik not even bothering to pull himself together for the doctors. He looked ragged when Charles urged him into bed, so much older than his years.

The next morning, Charles woke slowly and did his usual morning check--a gentle, invisible brush by each member of his family.

Edie wasn't there.

He stayed in bed, silently, staring at the ceiling and trying not to cry. It was ten minutes before Erik's cell phone began to ring on the table beside the bed with the official word.

That was it. She was gone.

***

None of them were ready. Not Charles, who looked to Edie for support in his parenting decisions and Erik's more worrisome moods. Not Anya, who had grown used to having Nana around to watch her during the day and tell her stories before bed. Not Lorna, who had yet to get to know her new grandmother.

But Erik? Erik was very nearly inconsolable, a shell of his former self.

He was a zombie through the funeral and Charles hoped, bleakly, that things would change once they resumed their normal routine. Erik went back to work after a week, and for all he seemed to be stepping right back into his old position, Charles could tell some of the passion was gone. His paranoia rocketed back up and he frequently called Charles during the day to check in on the girls, as Charles had taken a semester's sabbatical under the distant hope that Edie could fight it out a little longer. 

Nothing could shake Erik out of it. He could fake a smile when playing with Anya and Lorna, but even Anya was starting to see through it.

"I think Dada is still sad about Nana," Anya told him one afternoon after Erik left for work. "I don't want Dada to be sad."

"I don't either," Charles told her.

Charles was running out of ideas. He wasn't prepared to lose his mother in law and husband both, but talking to Erik was like talking to someone on another planet, especially as Purim approached. It was going to be the first holiday without Edie, without her festive Purim party and stories for Anya. If they were going to get through it, they needed an intervention.

That's when Charles pulled out Edie's recipe book for the first time since her illness and called Raven. He was going to get through to Erik if it killed him.

***

"We can fix this before Erik gets home," Charles says for the fifth, sixth, fifteenth, twentieth time. "We can--"

The oven sparks again. Anya giggles, then giggles more when Raven swears a blue streak.

"You need to put a _lot_ of money in the potty jar, Aunt Raven," she informs them. 

"Yeah, well, you can collect it at my funeral," Raven mutters. "Your dad is going to murder me."

"No, he's not," Charles insists. "Because we're going to fix this." He knows it's pointless, though--he can feel Erik's approach. He's driving down their suburban street and he'll be turning into their driveway momentarily. The kitchen is a wreck--something inside the oven is sparking, a casualty of Charles trying to scrape burned cookies off the bottom. They've dirtied nearly every bowl in the kitchen, their stand mixer is broken (though not unsalvageable once Erik gets home and can untwist the metal strands of the whisk attachment), they're nearly out of eggs, butter, flour, and baking powder, Anya is positively covered in three different kinds of jam, and even Lorna, sitting in her highchair away from the worst of the mess, is filthy.

Erik's not just going to kill Raven, he's going to kill Charles. No jury would convict him.

"Raven, you should start petitioning the landlord of the scummy building you call home to fix the elevator, because I may have to move in with you once my husband divorces me," Charles finally says, surveying the mess.

"It's cute that you think he's going to skip murdering you and let you off with a divorce," Raven says as the garage door whirs to life. 

"Dada!" Anya says happily, jumping down from her chair and skipping towards the garage door.

"Be a man," Raven says as Charles eyes the door, as if she's the mind reader and can see his hastily plotted escape route. As she says it, though, she begins gathering her own baking supplies--burnt, dirty, and wrecked--back into her canvas bags. "I, on the other hand, am a lady, and I am going to hightail it out of here before--"

"Dada, we made hamantaschen!" Anya says, delighted, and Charles can feel the moment Erik goes from gently amused and affectionate to shocked.

"That's my cue," Raven says quietly as Erik steps into the kitchen, eyes wide. She slinks towards the back door, but Erik holds up a hand and she stops abruptly, her belt and boots frozen in place even as she tries to wiggle away.

"No one's going anywhere," Erik says. He finally pulls his eyes away from the worst of the mess and turns towards them. "What the _hell_ happened in here?"

"Dada, that's a bad word," Anya says. Erik absently sends a quarter floating from his pocket over towards the swear jar on the counter. 

"Raven was--" Charles starts to say, but Raven quickly cuts him off.

"Raven was _nothing_ ," she says. " _Your husband_ called me over and implied I would be baking with the girls, then forced me to include him and I can't even logically explain how one person could cause this much mess, but it certainly wasn't my fault."

"The girls--" Charles attempts to say, but Raven shakes her head.

"I've baked cookies with Anya dozens of times. There's one major factor in this mess and you're married to him. You had a _choice_. I'm just a victim of genetics," Raven says.

Erik rolls his eyes and walks delicately through the kitchen, slowly taking in the expanse of the destruction. When he gets back to the doorway, Anya is looking up at him expectantly.

"We made some mistakes," she says. "But mistakes are okay because you learn, and we can make more that are okay. Will you make more with us?"

Those words are straight from Edie's mouth, and Charles hurts with the sense memory of Edie saying the same thing to him. He doesn't have to look at Erik to know Erik's feeling the same thing, but ten times as intense.

"You and Aunt Raven are going to start to clean up," Erik says quietly. "Daddy and I are going to talk in the garage."

"That means yelling," Anya says to Raven in a loud whisper.

"I figured," Raven whispers back, and Anya giggles.

"Watch the baby, Raven," Erik says, pointing at Raven sternly and then hesitating, his eyes on Lorna, as if he's seriously considering bringing her into the garage.

"Raven babysits all the time," Charles reminds him gently. "Come yell at me already."

Erik tears his gaze away and sighs, following Charles into the garage, half the fight already gone out of him. Charles almost wants him to scream. He wants… something. Something other than dread and fear and anxiety. He knows it's only been a few weeks and he knows better than anyone just how crucial Edie was to Erik's stability and happiness, but he's hurting so much and Charles aches for him.

Erik flicks on the lights and pulls the door closed with an absent wave of his hand once they're both in the garage. He closes his eyes and rubs hard between them before looking helplessly down at Charles.

"I imagine there's some sort of explanation for why it looks like something blew up in the kitchen?" he finally says. "I imagine it's noble and completely justifies the mess. I imagine robbers attempted to break into the house and held you at gunpoint and forced you to bake and destroying everything was your clever plan to get away." He reached a hand out behind him, fingers spread, in the direction of the kitchen. "How the hell did you break _the oven_?"

"We can go with your story," Charles tells him. "It's very exciting. And heroic. I enjoy being a little heroic from time to time. It's a nice change from my day job of being the mean professor who makes his students actually participate and my night job of being the mean daddy who enforces bedtime."

" _Charles_ ," Erik says flatly. Charles sighs.

"It's tradition," Charles says. He wonders if Erik honestly hasn't put it together yet, or if he's purposely being obtuse as another way to shield himself from his mother's death. "It's tradition for your mother to make hamantaschen with Anya the week before Purim while we're at work. You're all she has left, Erik--you and the girls. We can't let the traditions die--there will be no one else to carry them if we do."

Erik looks at Charles for a long time.

"You have jam in your hair," he finally says, reaching out to tug his fingers through the sticky patch on the side of Charles' head. Charles winces at the sharp tug on his scalp, but Erik's hand lingers to caress the side of his face. "I didn't think it was possible to make that much of a mess in the kitchen. How the hell did you survive before you met us?"

"A not insignificant portion of my inheritance was spent on take-out," Charles says, and Erik smiles, just a little. He takes Charles' face between his hands and leans over to kiss his forehead.

 _I love you,_ he thinks, more than just the usual, absent brush of affection, but the actual words, solid and precise. He stays there for a moment, resting his cheek on the top of Charles' head, his breathing deep and even. When he straightens up, he's still almost smiling. It's the longest he's seen Erik smile since Edie died, outside of time spent playing with the girls.

"I don't know why I let you around our children," Erik says, shaking his head. "You're a terrible influence."

"Yes, well, divorce is rather inconvenient and costly these days, so I suppose you're stuck with me," Charles says.

"I'll find a way to manage," Erik says, and leans over again to kiss him properly. When he stands up, he goes for the door to the house and gestures for Charles to precede him through it.

"Raven, go home," Erik says, pulling the door shut behind them. "We'll try to clean your things and replace them if we can't."

"Cool," Raven says. "Thank god. Great." She nuzzles Lorna's cheek and kisses her. "Goodbye, favorite little girl," she says, then crouches to very gingerly hug the jam-encrusted Anya, even though Raven's clothes are not much better off. "Goodbye, favorite big girl."

"Goodbye, Aunt Raven!" Anya says.

"I'll see you idiots later," Raven says to Charles and Erik once she's standing again. "Next time you need a babysitter, it better be just for the babies, because I am _not_ doing this again, even if you do the big sad eyes." Charles schools his face into the expression in question, and Raven checks to make sure Anya's attention is diverted elsewhere, then flips him off.

"Goodbye, Raven," Erik says, and Raven is off with a wave, cutting through the living room to grab her coat before leaving through the front door. 

Erik looks around the kitchen once she's gone, and Charles follows his gaze. It's not shock or even resignation flowing out from Erik now, though. It's something closer to determination.

"Okay, peanut," he says. "Let's try this again, with Daddy playing a strictly observational role. He's going to feed Lorna and watch us make hamantaschen, okay?"

"Okay!" Anya says. "Can I break the eggs again?"

Erik gives Charles a _look_ over the top of her head.

"No," he says. "But we can do it together. Now, come sit at the table and I'll get all the things we need...."

***

The girls go to sleep easily after dinner and cookies and extremely long baths. Lorna is asleep nearly as soon as Erik lays her down in her crib, and Anya is already fading before Charles finishes her first bedtime story.

"Daddy?" she asks sleepily. "Who's going to tell us the story of Queen Esther?"

"I think Aunt Raven will be up to the task," Erik says from the doorway. He's leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, watching their bedtime ritual. "Or maybe one of Nana's friends."

"I miss Nana," Anya says. "I'm sad when I think about her."

"I miss Nana too, peanut," Erik says. He crosses the room and sits on the edge of her bed, brushing her bangs off of her forehead. "But Nana wouldn't want us to be sad all the time."

"Can we be sad sometimes?" Anya asks. Charles swallows a lump in his throat.

"Of course we can," Charles murmurs to Anya. "Of course. Of course. We should remember all the things we love about Nana, but it's okay to be sad and to miss her. Just remember that she wouldn't want you to stop being happy."

He says it to Anya, but he takes Erik's hand tightly in his own as he does so.

They finish up with bedtime--Anya is sleeping before Charles completes the second story--and quietly make their way to their bedroom. It's early yet, but Charles is exhausted. While they should be taking advantage of this time alone to get some work done or have a drink or a conversation that doesn't involve Nick Jr, Charles isn't surprised that Erik follows him to the bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes.

"You know," Charles says, "I always say that you're the first person I trusted after the accident, the first stranger I let in. I don't think that's the case, though."

"Oh?" Erik asks. He sits on the edge of the bed and holds out his hand, which Charles takes. They're not quite of a height like this, but it's closer. It's easier to look into Erik's eyes. He looks tired and drawn and still so sad. 

"I think it was her," Charles says, his thumb stroking the back of Erik's hand in long spirals. "I mean, I know it. I guess I never really thought about it before, not like that. I thought about trust and I thought about you and sex and the stories I told you and the way I let you put your hands on my body without being afraid. But I know I wouldn't have been able to get there with you if I hadn't forged through and made the connection with your mother first. I told her things about mum and Kurt and Raven and Cain. I told her about the accident. Without her, I don't know that I would have been ready for you. I don't know that I could have let myself love you the way I did--recklessly, foolishly, and immediately. I could have thanked her constantly for a million years and it wouldn't have been enough. She gave us each other and she gave me the strength to believe I could be a father to Anya. I owe her everything."

Charles reaches up and touches Erik's cheek.

"We promised her," Charles says softly. "We both promised her we wouldn't do this. We promised her we'd live, Erik."

Erik nods. He doesn't speak, but he doesn't look away. His mind is chaotic and has been for weeks--Edie's death has put a temporary end to the usual meticulous order of his thoughts. Erik's mind has always been straight lines, clear delineations, calculated organization. He had the same intense self-control internally that he displayed externally time and again. It's no wonder he's been lost and confused when even his own mind is suddenly foreign and frightening.

"I don't want to be this way," Erik finally continues, his voice shaking. "I want to be strong for her, for you, for the kids, but everything reminds me again that she's gone, that I barely got to say goodbye, that the kids are going to grow up without her, and it hurts all over again. Just, constantly, Charles. It doesn't go away."

He closes his eyes and lies back on the bed. It takes a moment for Charles to scoot over, to transfer, to curl up on top of Erik, but he manages it, and once he's within reach, Erik holds onto him automatically, turning on his side to gather Charles into his arms without even opening his eyes.

"I know it hurts," Charles says. He strokes Erik's hair and forehead. "I hurt too, darling. I feel the pain too, mine and yours both. It's like a cloud that follows you, and it's lessening, but not enough. She wouldn't want you to hold it with you like this, love. Holding on to your grief isn't honoring her. Honoring her is… embracing her legacy. Teaching our children about her." Erik opens his eyes. He's looked so vulnerable these past few weeks. It's heartening, in a way, to remember that Erik is as human as he is. Mostly, though, Charles misses the man who was so sure of everything, especially himself. "She met both her grandchildren. She saw you married and successful and loved and happy. Those should be the things we hold onto, not the pain."

"I feel… untethered," Erik admits. "I feel like… with you and the kids, if I ever started to float away, she was there to pull be back and remind me what was important. And now I'm afraid I can't tell anymore."

"Let me tether you," Charles says. It's all he can say, all he can do, unfortunately. He'd do anything in his power, but Erik's pain lives in his own mind, and while Charles can soothe it temporarily, there's no magical cure, nothing that all his money can do to ease the burden.

He can do this, though. He can hold Erik. He can be there for him. 

"Trust in me to remind you," he says, cupping Erik's cheek. "Trust in me to hold on to you so you don't go anywhere. Where would you go? Where could you possibly go that we couldn't find you?"

"I don't know," Erik says. He presses his face against Charles' neck. "Nowhere. I couldn't go anywhere without you."

"See?" Charles says. "You'll be fine. We'll all be fine. Be sad when you need to be sad, but there's so much to be thankful for. This is the life your mother gave to us. The best thing we can do for her now is to live it."

"You're right," Erik says. "Of course you're right."

"Mm," Charles says, scratching Erik's scalp. "Say that again so I can record it for posterity."

Erik laughs, the sound vibrating against Charles' throat, and he looks up, smiling.

"Living life, huh?" he asks. Charles nods. "I guess we should start by calling people and inviting them over for Purim, unless we want Anya to revolt."

"Raven would be more than happy to tell the story of Esther," Charles says. "Your mother's version, of course."

"I'll go to the store after work tomorrow and get more baking supplies," Erik says. "You'll come home after you finish your office hours and finish scrubbing the kitchen so it's ready when I get home. I think I can fix the oven."

Charles winces. Cleaning is not necessarily his favorite thing to do, and the kitchen is still a disaster area, but he doesn't have it in him to complain when Erik looks so resolved. Erik watches his face, and when Charles doesn't object, he nods, slightly smug.

"You're still an ass," Charles says, but he's smiling as Erik rolls him onto his back and climbs on top of him.

"I'm in mourning, so I can get away with it," Erik says. The joke is a little more unsteady than it would be under normal circumstances, but it's progress, and Erik is still leaning down to kiss him, still radiating love and gratitude. "Plus, I'm going to reward you for being so accommodating." 

"Are you now?" Charles asks, but it's all he can manage to say before Erik kisses him quiet and wraps mind and body both around Charles.

Things aren't fixed yet, not entirely, but Erik is here with him, holding onto him, and it's a start.


End file.
